


That Somebody's Me

by ZarryFTZouis



Series: Chrissy's Oneshots [50]
Category: One Direction (Band), The Vamps (UK Band), Union J (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Double Anal Penetration, M/M, Morning After, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3727795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZarryFTZouis/pseuds/ZarryFTZouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Somebody's Me

**Author's Note:**

> Turns out that I was planning this. (my thumb hurts less)

Harry wakes up with a pounding headache, refusing to open his eyes just yet.

Then he smells it.

The tropical-banana body wash he misses the most.

 _Is this a dream where I balled up enough to ask George out to be my boyfriend?_ The sleep-hazy mind wonders, turning around with a smile to wake his monkey up the way he loves it.

Only to be greeted by a really fluffy, curly head of a boy he barely knows.

Harry might have shrieked like a banshee.

“Oh God, that was… Harry?” Harry recognises the younger lad as Bradley from The Vamps. “You’re still here?”

“What do you mean, I’m still here?” Harry tries to remember what the hell happened the night before. “Did we..?”

“Well, you fell asleep after one round whilst me and George went for another two,” Bradley replies with a light blush covering his little cheeks. “He told me you tend to do that.”

“So you and he are going out?” Harry chokes on those words. “I wasn’t really…”

“George blocked your number after he saw you fucking Niall, and he was butt-hurt that he was foolish enough to believe someone like you have the ability to love,” the younger lad sounds like he’s explaining something without saying the actual word. “And by the look on your face, I say someone you were with before made you cold-hearted, almost devoid and afraid of commitment.”

“Where’s George?”

“Out to get breakfast, this is a dingy bar motel room,” Bradley kindly supplies. “You snore.”

“And you smell like George,” Harry chokes out.

“I hope you’re okay with tear-stained pancakes and blueberries,” Brad — he thinks that’s what the small lad prefers being called — grins wickedly.

-

Harry just watches all the _couple_ thing George does with his new boyfriend. Harry knew what he was doing when he broke George’s heart. He _knew_ what he was trying to avoid.

To Harry Styles, falling in love means one or the other: Life or death.

When he was in sixth form year… nothing worked out.

Only Zayn and Niall know the full story about Harry’s fucked up love life.

 

George gives him a _you okay there?_ frown, something that’s Harry smile back like nothing’s wrong. He was a dick to George and one drunken sex won’t change nothing.

“I’m going to leave,” Harry makes a grab for his jacket, only to remember it’s bloody middle of June, almost July, and he has none. “You be happy with that twink.” He fails at sounding civil.

“You had a chance,” Brad reaffirms what he said before. “Now it’s gone.”

 _Because I’m the king of fuck-ups_ , Harry smiles wryly before leaving the room.

-

“So you fucked George,” Zayn says in the most nonchalant way someone can muster, flicking the embers alive. “And why are you here? I don’t recall saying my former band mates can just come over.”

“Oh, screw your macho bullshit,” Harry flops down onto the bed. “You may be some sort of solo artist, but you know what I really crave.”

“I offered you what you wanted, but you refused,” Zayn growls, a cloud of thick, unfiltered cloud wafting through the air. “And you didn’t even try to keep me in the band.”

“Simon knew, I knew, that we couldn’t change your mind,” Harry takes the cigarette from the tan-skinned lad’s hand and takes one hit. “Gah, why do you even smoke?”

“You’re such a wuss,” Zayn rolls his eyes, reclaiming his fag. “But you know where I stand with your George problem.”

“Niall was a nice distraction,” Harry frowns, not knowing where Zayn is going with this mini lecture. “But the truth lies with the forgotten stories and repressed false accusations.”

“You’re such a philosopher,” Zayn grins, dipping his head down to press a chaste kiss to Harry’s temple.

 _Love does that to you_.

-

Harry wakes up again, but this time, the sun is almost set below the horizons and his headaches are gone. He reaches for his mobile and checks the time as _15:49_.

“No one woke me up,” Harry grouses, surprised that he fell asleep, _damn you hangover_ , not only with clothes on, but also without planning so. “Zayn, where are you?”

“Right next to you, blind boy,” Harry pretty much _hears_ the eye roll. “You got a call from unknown number, in case you were wondering.”

“Five quid says it was Brad,” Harry yawns, dismissing the notification for the missed call and texts. “Was it?”

“He sounded like a bottom twink and terrified?” Zayn scratches his eyebrow. “Almost as if he didn’t know whoever was with him _not_ to overhear him.”

“Interesting,” Harry yawns again, this time rubbing his eyes. “So, anything I should know about?”

“Paparazzi have the pictures of you, George, and that Bradley kid leaving the bar together,” Zayn gives Harry _a Look_. “You’d better tell me right _now_ that you didn’t do something as stupid as–”

“I slept with them–”

“As that,” Zayn slaps his hand over his face. “Harry Edwards _Milward_ Styles!”

“You shouldn’t get worked up over _me_ ,” Harry growls at his best mate. “Don’t call me that, by the way. I don’t like when people bring up my past.”

“I know that, idiot, but _Harold_ ,” Zayn is 100% exasperated in Harry’s ears. “I told you before, during that phone call when you were supposed to be sleeping before the show, that you _shouldn’t let your feelings get in the way_.”

“Says the man who left his best mates to make his fiancée feel better,” Harry spits out venomously. “Or should I say… the faux fee-fee.”

“Don’t call her that,” Zayn sighs loud and clear. “I may not love her the man her wife, but you know the circumstances between me and… _him_.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, I’m just the idiot who got pappped fucking some twinks,” Harry throws his hands into the air. “You just have your sort of boyfriend that got mad at you for all the right reasons.”

“He’s not… we both fucked up,” Zayn deduces. “But I can tell you, my dear Harry, that we have to stop those demons from succumbing us.”

-

Harry spends the next three hours just staring at his phone screen, wondering if George would try to murder him if he texted him.

The George he knew was so kind and gentle, innocent, even.

The George he saw was burning with hatred and remorse, thirsty for a fight.

 _I fucked up big time_ , Harry sighs, dropping his phone. _If only I could turn back time_.

“It’s rude to think about someone else when you’re in bed with someone,” Zayn quips in _un_ helpfully. “Cowardly of me, eh?”

“I know nothing about love, if that’s what you’re implying,” Harry dismisses the thoughts. “And you aren’t in any better shoes.”

“I know you loved George and still do,” Zayn shrugs, lighting up a fag. “The problem is, he stopped because the hole you created is now replaced with love he’s for Brad.”

“Wow, thank you, Captain Duh,” Harry kicks his shoes off, getting comfortable. “You are such an expert.”

“I’m supposed to marry ‘the girl of my dreams’, I think I know a degree or two about tragic love stories,” Zayn shoos at Harry. “Don’t let anyone get to you.”

-

**From: Unknown**

**We need to talk**

**Sent 15:34**

Without a doubt, Harry knows it’s from George. He shouldn’t be surprised that he got a new number.

 

**To: George**

**Um, your boyfriend being crazy weird? sure**

**Read 15:35**

**From: George**

**No, about how we ended fucking again**

**Sent 15:35**

**To: George**

**You say it like it’s a bad thing**

**Read 15:36**

The doorbell says that George didn’t get rid of his address, weird.

“The fuck are you doing?” Harry sighs, not having expecting Brad to tag along. “Two of you could have attracted paparazzi, regardless of your fame.”

“Brad is off to Australia tour in a couple weeks so we figured we’d both talk to you,” George answers for the two of them. “About us.”

“Oh no, this is too melodramatic for me,” Harry sighs in the aforementioned way. “I take flights between the UK and America all the time without this bullshit.”

“Brad has a point on why the hell you didn’t commit to me,” George grabs his shoulder, stilling him. “So you can either tell us the entire truth, or the media knows.”

“Knows what?” Harry keeps his composure.

“That you led a scandalous life,” Brad smiles innocently.

“I don’t know where to begin, but to keep everything short…”

“We’re listening,” George flops down onto a sofa.

“I was in fifth form and… he happened,” Harry chokes on those two words. “I won’t mention his name, not unless you want to call the paramedics for a panic attack. He was _that_ guy, the jock type who broke hearts so easily. I was only sixteen and thought that I found the love of my life… he butchered my heart in return.”

“Give me the full story,” Bradley insists.

“He took everything from me — the ability to love, laugh with someone I care, or even believe and trust that significant person,” Harry stops himself from adding _‘my virtue’_.

“So you became a heartless bastard to cover it up,” Brad looks unamused, sipping his coffee. Mocha latte if he doesn’t know any better because that’s what George would have made him try.

“Pretty much,” Harry decides to keep it light. “Sorry to ruin your honeymoon phase.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t mention his name,” Brad shrugs it off, like he’s honing into something. “And the most important question is: What will you do with us?”

“What,” Harry frowns.

“You know, there are a lot of paparazzi killing to find out what and how we fit into your life,” George continues for his boyfriend. “You knew that there were people taking pictures and your management didn’t do jack-shit about it.”

“You’re asking for something reckless,” Harry hisses at the older bloke. “I’m not going to start anything.”

“I’m asking for coordination,” George sounds nonchalant. “After all, we used to be fuck buddies.”

“That word sounds cress coming from you,” Harry pushes down anything else that would make him sound weak. “Don’t swear, monkey.”

“Harry, knock it off,” Brad warns, and all five-six of him look intimidating right now.

-

The Vamps kicked off their tour in Perth, Harry thinks, and George isn’t with him. Technically, Union J have some promo things to do but that’s not really important. It’s only June, George can relax, or so Harry’s been told.

Brad squeezed his number out and sends him death threats via texts.

**From: Twink**

**I swear I will choke you with your curls if you hurt George again.xx**

**Delivered 6:34**

Harry has nothing against The Vamps, with all due respect. They gained their own fans, started from their YouTube covers. He has seen James (McVey) at some clubs, _probably_ didn’t recognise him at first. Niall mentioned the other boy-band once or twice.

“James has nice arms,” Niall mentioned post-sex. “Think he has a thing for their lead bloke.”

 _I fucked up_ , Harry knows it’s too late for that.

“Harry?” George’s tentative voice jolts him back to reality, reminding him that they’re at Costa. “Your thinking face hasn’t changed.”

“Sexy and alluring as fuck?” Harry smirks.

“Dopey and drugged,” George rolls his eyes. “Brad trusts you just tad bit enough not to, say, issue a death warrant, or better yet, restraining order.”

“Babe, you won’t be needing a restraint when I’m on all four.” That gets a flushed face from the older lad. “Brad looks like he’s hiding something.”

“Well, he went all the way from California to Manila, I think he was tired,” Harry says carelessly.

“It’s their Australian leg,” George reminds him.

“Same difference,” Harry sips his chai latte. “Tell me, how is he coping with the fact that you’re not entirely over me?”

“You think so highly of yourself, Styles,” George gives him a shit-eating grin. “Just because I was thinking about how fucked up you were during my first kiss with Brad doesn’t mean I was hung up on you.”

“‘I guess I was wrong’,” George raises an amused brow. “Those were your last words to me until recently. Care to explain?”

“You opened up a hole,” George’s normally warm brown eyes are seething with fury. “You took my innocence and let me bleed out.”

“I know you still love me deep inside that sexy chest of yours,” Harry drags one pointer finger down from the crevice between those red and silver flannel he lent to the older lad long time ago.

“Bugger off.”

-

 

**From: Grimmy**

**Louis is freaking me out, you shithead**

**Delivered 4:37**

Harry thinks he isn’t in the position to give anyone relationship advice, but his long-time pal Grimmy seems to assume so. He starts typing in something, then stops himself.

He wants to go somewhere.

 

He bought a bike couple years ago, not to really ride it, but to just own it, and tonight seems like a perfect time to give it a test drive.

He’s quick to kick the stand off and start driving the bike. The feeling of handles instead of a proper steering wheel is weird, but he reckons that’s something he has to forsake.

 

Half an hour later, he finds himself at the once-familiar place.

“Go away,” the voice is imminent, letting him know that George was expecting him. “I’m not in the — Brad, you can’t — fuck.”

“I still have the spare key,” to prove his point, Harry opens the door.

Only to find a naked George fucking Brad.

 

Tears well in his eyes, whether from frustration or longing, or both, Harry doesn’t want to know.

“You’re a dick,” Brad smirks, poised above George in a classic cowboy position. “You had your chance and let it go.”

“I’m sober enough to go, enraged enough to join,” Harry chokes on his unshed tears. “But that’s not what you want.”

“If that’s what it takes for you to stop psycho-stalking us, I’m willing to share,” Brad growls out, then keens as if George nailed his prostate. “God, you’re so skilled, Georgie.”

Harry thinks about his options. He can reclaim his shot at love but that’s not what the universe wants.

He wants his heart back, and he can let Simpson dictate him about.

Harry shucks his clothes off and steals a kiss from George, then inserts himself inside of already-stretched hole. Brad seems to like it, back arching and walls clenching in a vice-like grip. Harry missed this, being intimate with George, even if Brad is in the equation. George is quick to come, as they were already going at it, so Harry keeps fucking the youngest until he sobs with ecstasy.

“I still love you,” Harry mumbles against the back of George’s hand, knowing his battle is over.

“That’s what you want to believe,” Harry thinks he imagined those words, but for now, he had George whilst he could.

***

_What really happened that night_

“You don’t have t’ do this,” Niall looks more uncertain than Harry. “You told me so much about your little boy.”

“If I don’t what I have with George, he’ll be broken more than I ever will be,” Harry reassures his best mate. “I checked twitter and he’s lurking about.”

“You told me about Enzo–”

“He is my past and never to be discusses,” Harry cuts off whatever lecture Niall has for him. “Just do this for me, it will be easier this way.”

“You want to break a heart in order to save one,” Niall sounds amused, someone Harry is used to. “How ironic.”

“He deserves someone better, like a whole-hearted person who can actually love back,” Harry clutches onto the pendant George gave him on his 20th birthday.

A little star-shaped charm he’ll always carry with him.


End file.
